


These moments

by moonlite



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cafe AU, M/M, Out of Character, Self-Indulgent, hastur/Ligur but only hinted and very lightly, these are very short, they aren't married yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27757405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlite/pseuds/moonlite
Summary: Crowley pops the question.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These parts are all because I loved the moment of the first fic. I just wanted to explore the other mentioned memories. But I didn't want to explore them too deeply.

Aziraphale felt arms encircling his middle and warmth covering his back. He leaned a bit and the arms got tighter and the warmth firmer.

“Got enough rest, love?” he asked softly, trying hard not to destroy the delicate moment between sleep and wakefulness for the man behind him. Said man hummed and he felt lips on his shoulders traveling to his nape. “I made you coffee.” Aziraphale added, emphasizing his words with the smell permeating around them.

The man, Crowley, nuzzled the back of his head before moving to take the cup in the other's hand. Aziraphale might’ve missed the warmth but the clarity of the other’s eyes was worth the lost comfort.

“Have I ever told you I love you?” Crowley spoke, his voice raspier with sleep. A rumble Aziraphale has adored since the first time he heard it. People sometimes say that after a couple of years of the same things, you get tired and you start to look for something new yet here they are, 5 years of raspy voices in the morning and it still takes him back to the first time. The very first time; when he blushed and had to take some time for himself. That tiny ‘oh’ escaping his lips every time he hears Crowley in the morning. The soft sighs he keeps to himself, the hidden thoughts of what if he woke up to it every morning. 

The secret indulgent imaginings of kissing those lips awake and hearing that voice say his name.

“I wouldn’t have waited two years if I only knew coffee was the way to your heart,” Aziraphale smiled teasingly, turning back to the water he was boiling for his tea. He felt the strong arms back around him and he didn’t lean this time for the weight of the other chased him.

“You’re the way to my heart, Angel. You are my heart,” He heard the quiet murmur of the man against his skin and he smiled, feeling the blooming adoration in his core, the heat of devotion in his chest, the choking grip of love in his heart. Crowley always avoided using his words to express his love but when he does Aziraphale melts for in words is how he lives and loves. “Literally stole the thing inside my chest and ripped it out of me the first time I saw you. Replaced it with your eyes and your smile and your voice.” Crowley continued, now slowly rocking them both sideways. “I remember thinking how unfair it was for me to fall in love with an angel. The only creature that was beyond my reach,” he added, peppering Aziraphale’s shoulder with open mouthed kisses.

“Yet here I am,”

“Yet here you are,” Crowley agreed. “In my arms and within my reach. I prayed to God, you know? The night you agreed to go out with me.”

“You did?” Aziraphale frowned. Crowley likes to tell him tiny glimpses of things but this is a new one.

“Yep. Asked her to help me out. I didn’t want to fuck our first date up and I knew it would take a miracle for that to happen so I asked her,”

“Our first date wasn’t so bad,” Aziraphale spoke thoughtfully, managing his tea while Crowley was hugging him from behind. 

“Miracle, Angel. Then after that, I prayed to her again.” Aziraphale chuckled. “We might make a devotee out of you yet.” he teased. Crowley only lightly smacked his middle then went on with his tale.

“It was our second year anniversary. I hear what people say about couples separating after three or five years and I felt so scared. For a year I felt like you would break up with me any moment so the entire year I kept praying to her to let me have you for a little bit longer. Maybe just another month more. Asked her to make you think of breaking it to me gently. Then we had our third anniversary and the fourth and you stayed,” Crowley bestowed him another kiss but this time he guided his face towards him and so the kiss was deep and loving. “But I dreaded the fourth year because there was another hurl I had to look out for. Another point in time I might lose you - “

“Darling you know you wouldn’t lose me,” Aziraphale tried to search his eyes and only found desperation and fear. Aziraphale had to swallow a sob. This is Crowley’s moment. He would let him get it all out.

“So I prayed to her again. I prayed long and hard and sincerely. For her to show me a sign of what to do so I get to keep you. So I have you for the rest of time because you are my life, Aziraphale. You know that, right?” Aziraphale nodded and only answered him with another kiss.

“Then the other day, I found this -” Crowley took out a ring from his pocket.

“Why, isn’t that your mother’s ring, love?” Aziraphale inquired, taking the ring from his lover’s hand and examining it under the light. It was a quaint piece of jewelry, simple yet obviously loved from decades of use and cleaning. Crowley showed it to him on one of their dates when he accidentally found it in his wallet.

“Yep. A ring my mom got from her mother passed down through generations and sons and daughters. I found it in that wallet I used on our date.” the red headed man chuckled and held the other a bit closer. “And last night I prayed, before going to sleep, to guide my actions and my words today,” 

Aziraphale stared at his beloved a moment longer. What is Crowley trying to get at?

“I am not much, you know? But I love you. And I will do anything for you.” The blonde man gasped as the other pulled out a ring just like the one he has in his hand though larger and cleaner, obviously new.

“And you are right. I have been a devotee. But all my life I have told God I will devote myself to you.”


	2. first moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley meets Aziraphale

The sky wept that day. Crowley made his way through the pouring rain and it was cold - oh it was so cold he felt the chilling of his bones. The cold seems to be coming from inside him - living within him, in the very air he breathes. He reached for the wooden door handle of a tiny cafe near his office and sighed, imagining the tendrils of the scent of coffee caressing his skin already. 

He sighed again.

The board advertised a new product: something about chai latte. They have been coming up with thousands of recipes for coffee and tea nowadays, it seems, yet Crowley always turns back to a good cup of hot black coffee. He was about to order this and warm himself up in a corner in the cafe when his eyes landed on the bluest pair of eyes he has ever seen.

Time stopped. Crowley felt his breath escape him, and his heart thumped inside his hallowed chest. The cold seemed to have left his body and left not even a kiss on his skin.

“Good day, young fella. What can I get you?” the man smiled, hands already reaching for a cup. Crowley took a quick breath. This is an impossibility but Crowley was sure his lungs are gripped now by the hold of this man’s voice, his smile pulling him just a little closer and making the world move around him again. 

Crowley cleared his throat.

“Can I get a long black?” he asked and oh heavens the mirth in the man’s eyes. Crowley was transfixed in those eyes before he heard the words “I might need to get my colleague for that,”

“Huh?” The man in front of him gave him a shy glance and laugh and Crowley was sure his blood sang.

“Nothing. Anything else you would like to get with that?” 

“Uhm, no.” Crowley answered and the man got to work and the spring of his step would’ve annoyed Crowley another day but today it only made him think of a meadow and flowers dancing in the breeze. Maybe even a picnic and a clear sky.

“How about you pick a chair while you wait and I can bring over your coffee?” The man smiled and turned back to his work before Crowley could even thank him. The cafe was warm when he got in but he felt warmer still after talking to the mystery man at the register now smiling as he greeted a colleague who caught the next order.

In his chair, he contented himself with watching. He committed to memory every movement, every smile, every step and heaved another sigh. It was all so unfair being this attracted to a stranger he barely knew and pining from afar to top.

It was unfair to feel and feel and feel. 

Crowley looked outside and watched the rain instead. He used to love the rain. He spent his childhood under the rain; bathing and laughing and dancing. Arms of a woman with a blurred face, a man that was never home, a contented life that now seemed so far away.

“If mournful eyes can stop rain, it would’ve if the sky saw yours,” a voice on his left spoke and he heard the gentle clatter of a mug and a plate being placed in front of him. “I took the liberty of getting you a croissant. You looked like you could use it. On the house.” he added and smiled, leaving Crowley's heart erratic in his chest. 

It’s so unfair.

He took a sip of the coffee he was given and eyed the croissant sitting oh so innocently, staring at him, as if saying  _ ‘look at how much of a mess you are! It took someone else to feed you.’ _

Deep breaths.

He took a bite and gave a tiny smile; the croissant was still warm and the butter rich in his tongue. Looking at the register, he saw the man assisting another customer, smiling.

Smiling and smiling and smiling.

And his heart is gripped in its longing and yearning.


	3. second moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale feels something but won't say it just yet

It was early - the sun was still asleep yet he was very much awake lifting bags after bags of beans to be used for the day. He usually has Ligur’s help but the other man said he would be running late. For whatever reason, Aziraphale didn't ask. Ligur is often early anyway doing more than he should and he is more than happy to allow the man a few days off if he ever asks. 

“Are you open?” 

Aziraphale almost dropped the sack and had to heave it to the shelf to attend to the person suddenly inside the cafe. He frowned for no bell chimed on his way in and quickly thought of cats and putting bells on their necks.

“I’m very sorry if you - “ a yawn escaped his lips and Aziraphale smiled brushing on his apron before turning to see the customer “I’m sorry if you aren’t open.” Aziraphale turned with a smile and took a soft breath in. If it was possible for a human to look soft around the edges, it was this moment, with this red headed man, rubbing his eyes of sleep with shoulders wrapped with a blanket? 

He let a soft breath out his parted mouth.

“It’s fine. It’s you,” Aziraphale said softly and in that moment he felt gravity pull him forwards to the man, the urge to wrap his arms around him and caress his cheek and feel his warmth on his skin strong. 

He felt the feeling of closing a great book - the satisfaction coursing through him and the weight of happiness glowing in his belly, the softness of wonder and imaginings.

“It’s me?” The man asked softly, eyes lost in confusion. Oh how Aziraphale would love to come over and kiss that confusion off his brows and keep the cold away from him - be the blanket around him protecting him. 

“Don’t mind me. Are you looking for breakfast?” he asked instead, trying to get his bearings and putting some semblance of stability in the other man who nodded and followed him to the counter.

“If you’re still closed I can go somewhere else?” the man spoke again and Aziraphale noted the tiny break in his voice. 

It’s so different. The first time he saw him, he had the voice that could make anyone do anything: smooth and rich and enticing. His mouth formed the words so meticulously and carefully. But here, right now, in the darkness of dawn, the dim of the counter light, he looked soft and breakable. His words didn’t hug the words and didn’t seep into the bones but rather, they floated. They danced in the air with a path straight to Aziraphale awakening the longing in him. The want and the need and the greed.

“No need, dear boy. I can make you something up but I’ll need you to follow me inside. I can’t have every customer thinking I open this early,” he spoke, an unexpected tease in his wavering voice.

“Oh you’re an angel,” the other spoke and the air vibrated with something Aziraphale won’t acknowledge just yet.


	4. third moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is going on a date.

The night breeze sang in the air and the lights shone brighter. The pavement giggled with the happy pattering of feet going places. One particular pair was on its way to a tiny cafe in the middle of the city; the tiniest one in the middle of tens if not hundreds of huge cafes littering every corner you go.

“Hey, lover boy!” A familiar voice spoke as these feet entered the establishment. It was quite crowded although not with its usual patrons of the younger working class. Crowley, the owner of the feet the pavement just lost, snarled humoredly. Ligur, the familiar voice, only laughed in the jovial way he does. “Thank your lucky stars you are asking Aziraphale out for dinner or I wouldn’t have taken this shift.”

“He’s supposed to be on shift tonight? But he opens up!”

“He takes every shift he can, Romeo. You should know that by now,” Ligur commented, giving his nose a light tap. 

The air was forgiving and Crowley wasn’t stifled. 

Unless he spoke too soon. 

Aziraphale got out of the side door in his usual clothes and Crowley stopped breathing. It wasn’t always that he sees Aziraphale in his usual clothes as he often wears the shop’s uniform but what a sight he has been: wrapped in softness and light and everything Crowley wants to have in his arms. 

“Don’t stare too hard or he’ll disappear, Mr. Darcy.” Ligur quipped as Aziraphale went to fetch his scarf beneath the counter.

“He’s fallen faster than Icarus,” Hastur chuckled.

“Who has?” Aziraphale asked, ignorant of his surroundings. Oh if Crowley could only keep him this way forever. “Doesn’t matter. Sorry, dear, I think I have to fetch my gloves upstairs. Could you wait a moment more?”

“Take your time, Angel,” Crowley smiled and watched the other’s figure disappear to the stairs that are used only by the staff. He has been there before - the morning after he slept in the office after a late session with the Asian investors. He didn’t see the time but he felt starving and so ran to the cafe he knew.

“ _ ‘Take your time, Angel’ _ yuck. Be thankful Aziraphale l- “ Ligur covered Hastur’s mouth before he could even proceed and Crowley tried his hardest to ignore them.

In the months he has regularly visited and, might he say, familiarize himself with the cafe, he learned that Hastur and Ligur came in as a pair and if there’s anything he can count on, they would also go out as a pair and Aziraphale is fond of them and so he would be to if that’s what it takes. 

He rubbed his hands together and felt the chill of the night creep. He suddenly became aware of the cold tips of his fingers and the loose thread on his shirt, the nasty strand of hair that won’t tame itself and the lack of cologne - he groaned. He isn’t perfect for tonight. He is nothing but a shame and Aziraphale shouldn’t look that good going downstairs and smiling up to him as if he’s gotten everything right - oh how Crowley’s heart beat inside his chest, like a bird fluttering around trying to get out of its cage to fly free to freedom - Aziraphale is its freedom.

Crowley allowed a small sigh to escape his lips watching the blond man walk towards him, lips smiling so shyly and eyes sparkling.

“I swear to god if you two don’t go away I would make everyone in this cafe drink bad coffee,” Hastur grumbled before going back inside, Ligur’s eyes following - a sign he’s sure he would’ve been able to decipher if not for the beautiful man in front of him. 

“Well in that case, my dear, we better get out of here,” Aziraphale chuckled amused and Crowley thought he heard bells ring, like water splashing in a desert. 

Please, God, don’t let him fuck this.


	5. fourth moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is acknowledging it but he doubts himself.

After the incident with Crowley coming in very early in the morning after spending time in the office and getting breakfast in his cafe, it has become a bit of a habit for the man to be there that early and spend time with him until dawn breaks and the earliest customer comes in asking for Americano to go. 

Crowley has become adept in moving around his counter. He can take orders and make the entire variation of black coffee - which he seems to intentionally be learning and disregarding the other kinds - and this is how Aziraphale found him: talking to a customer and recommending the available pastry on the window. 

“You definitely have to pair this with the croissant. The bread simply melts in your mouth and the butter makes the coffee richer,” he watched Crowley nod as if in approval of just what he said and smiled when the woman sighed and got a croissant. “You’d thank me after taking a bite.” the red headed man winked and Aziraphale felt himself melt inside, flashes of images in his mind - Crowley in the cashier all the time, smiling at him, calling in orders. Crowley spilling coffee and apologizing and him just laughing it off as they clean it up. Crowley wiping his hands on a towel after washing them. 

Crowley walking to him and kissing him then going back to the next customer. 

Aziraphale gasped, walking backwards to the kitchen. 

Crowley kissing him. Soft, sweet, short. Crowley kissing him. Long, deep, passionate. Crowley kissing him. Hard, wild, feral. Crowley kissing him.

Crowley. Kissing him.

“Oh,” he whispered, a hand flying to his chest, his heart beating wildly, his skin tingling and his feet rebelling. Can he really walk to him and kiss him? Walk to him and grab him and feel him?

“Are you okay?” Crowley appeared on the door and he felt his cheeks heat up while his eyes aimed themselves on the other’s lips.

“Yes. All fine. Tickety Boo.” he smiled and excused himself not paying any mind to the man who looked at him worriedly. 

Crowley wrapping his arms around him and kissing his shoulders, his neck. Crowley whispering to him - doesn’t matter if it’s to ask questions - just him so close his scent on his nose and his taste almost on his lips. He knows Crowley doesn’t smell special. But he smells like himself, clean, crisp, deep and dark.

Enticing.

Enchanting.

Alluring.

A temptation always a step away and oh lord forgive him for he’s a sinner who wants to give in. 

Feeling his soft skin, holding his hands and sharing warmth. Nuzzling and cuddling and whispering sweet nothings. Aziraphale sighed at the pain he knew would come somehow but what to do when he welcomed it for a taste of what’s prohibited? For a taste - oh please just a taste - of this sin. 

Another sigh.

Would his fingers fill the gaps in his hands? Would his body mold to his like pieces made together? Would he like what he sees? Would he accept the secrets underneath? Aziraphale chuckled, a bitter sound on his ears. Does Crowley like him the way he does him? Does he desire him the way he desires to touch his skin? Does Crowley also feel this unquenchable thirst of wanting and needing and wanting again? Does Crowley feel greedy wanting him for himself and himself alone again and again?

Aziraphale felt a pang in his chest. 

What is Crowley thinking? What is going on inside his head? What does he see when he looks at him? What does he think about him? Does he see a future together? Of picnics and dinners and breakfast before the break of dawn? Of coffee cups and tea time and snacks and lunches? Will he love me the way I love him? Because that’s Crowley, isn’t he? The forbidden. The apple in the middle of the garden. 


	6. fifth moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finds a ring

His mom gave it to him a long time ago, wishing for the right person in his life to come along. Crowley smiled. He found him a couple of years ago. Found him working in a cafe, taking shifts as much as he can and providing people with service and love and care. Found him serving breakfasts in the morning and sharing tea with him at night. Found him shyly glancing - eyes twinkling - as he held his hand. Found him kissing his cheek and wrapping a scarf around his neck.

Found him loving him back.

Just as fiercely.

Just as strongly. 

Just as true. 

Crowley has shown the ring to Aziraphale in an unexpected delight of seeing it in his wallet during their date. They are dating now. Regularly. He would take Aziraphale to restaurants on the weekends then he would spend mornings with him before going to work. He doesn't know the proper etiquette for this kind of thing but he knew that not seeing Aziraphale for a bit for one day would be terrible. And Aziraphale never said anything about not wanting his company. If anything, he trusts Aziraphale would say a word of disapproval. 

But every day he is met with a lovely ‘Hello, dearest’ or a sigh of ‘Crowley’ fondness so strong only decency is holding him back from running to him and kissing him senseless.

Crowley can do that now too! Kissing. On their fourth date, Aziraphale shyly gave him a peck on the cheek and on their fifth night out, Crowley had been brave to ask and oh how thankful he was he asked. Lips softer than velvet met his in a soft, gentle kiss. So gentle it almost made him cry. 

Oh what a night that had been - Aziraphale beamed at him as he went for another and another and another and Aziraphale gave him a gleeful giggle when he confessed he doesn't know what to do with himself but kiss him. 

And kiss him he did for Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him and allowed his apologies to disappear between smiling lips and asking and giving and feeling. Oh how he felt and he was alive. Every vein, every part of him is alive.

“You have to go home,” Aziraphale whispered while they have their foreheads together, eyes closed, just feeling each other and drinking breaths in.

“I don’t want to,” he whispered back, holding the other man tighter to his chest.

“But you have to. Or you won’t come in early for breakfast.” Aziraphale chuckled and gave him a peck before they parted.

“Alright” is what he said but  _ ‘Pull me inside. Kiss me more. Take me. Whatever you like.’ _ is what he wanted to say. 

“Be early tomorrow,” Aziraphale smiled and he nodded.

Walking away, he felt the pull of strings towards the man he just had in his arms. The pull of want and need and love to the blond man he calls his angel. 

He pulled out his phone and called a colleague to make arrangements with a jeweler. 


	7. sixth moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is in love.

Aziraphale stared at the ceiling, mapping the edges of the dim light he left on for reading. Crowley is next to him, snoring lightly with an arm wrapped around his middle. Crowley sleeps like a snake wrapped around him - limbs seeking any part it can get to. Once Crowley said it’s the warmth. Aziraphale is naturally warm and hence he unconsciously seeks him in sleep and that makes Aziraphale feel all kinds of softness for the man.

He looks at him - at the disheveled hair and unguarded face. The softness around his eyes that disappears in the morning. The vulnerability only Aziraphale is allowed to see. Oh how he loves this man in his arms and all his flaws. How he loves him and his imperfections. Crowley has never been perfect but he’s what he wants. What he likes. The most ideal man he could ever ask for. 

Whenever Aziraphale reaches out, Crowley is always there to catch him - always there to make sure he has somewhere to land. A grounding presence in his existence. A light in the dark. 

He once more ran his eyes upon his sleeping features and landed a kiss upon his forehead. 

Aziraphale remembers their first date. Crowley was all shy and distant and when he asked why, Crowley shyly admitted to not wearing a cologne and that had made him laugh. A man of his stature losing composure around him was something he never imagined yet there he was, running a hand on the back of his neck. And so to tease, a friendly thing he has been so brave to do, he leaned in to take a whiff.

Scent of skin caressed his senses, the city mingling and the heat in the air intensifying it. Aziraphale remembers thinking of old oak and aged wine drank in the middle of the night and finished at the dawn of day. He remembered thinking of rich chocolate melting in his mouth, bursting with flavor. Crowley alone was an experience of scents and he remembers wanting to get it closer, inhale a little harder.

But what he said is he smelled like himself. Aziraphale chuckled at the memory. He smelled like himself.

However now, he is free to put his nose on his neck, free to breathe him in. He found out a while ago that his scent is stronger along his hairline. A scent he now recognizes in the glimpses of feelings and experiences. Of heat and cold and warmth. His scent dances around him in a swirl of emotions and love. Oh he feels love. Glowing love for this man next to him. Glowing love for the ground he walks and the words he talks. 

Love.

Adoration. 

And how thankful he is that he is loved just the same.


End file.
